


Let's Start at the Very Beginning

by kinfic2



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-03
Updated: 2013-03-03
Packaged: 2017-12-04 04:58:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/706821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kinfic2/pseuds/kinfic2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Gap Filler for 101, some dialogue taken directly from the show.<br/>This is a re-post from livejournal</p>
    </blockquote>





	Let's Start at the Very Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> Gap Filler for 101, some dialogue taken directly from the show.  
> This is a re-post from livejournal

                                                                    

                                                                                                            **CH. 1**

**BECAUSE THE NIGHT**

_“Our finest moments are most likely to occur when we are feeling deeply unhappy or unfulfilled.”  
_

Brian’s POV:

      The night was like any other on Liberty Avenue. But I was bored. Even more disturbing, blowjobs were becoming...old?  Yeah, I know. Armageddon had arrived. And it freaked me out. Getting my dick sucked was like breathing or eating. Never happened before. Never _._ Ever _._ Maybe others had the unfortunate experience but not me. Why? I lived to suck and fuck—any time, any place, any person, any position. I also have a reputation to uphold. Legendary tales about my sexual expertise are not exaggerated, nor are the ones about my being a selfish bastard. The explanation for the first is simple. I’m the best. When Brian Kinney fucks you, literally or figuratively, you’ll remember it. The reason for the second is not so simple. Note that I said reason, not excuse.

      See, I learned a few painful lessons growing up. I told myself the physical and emotional scars were private badges of honor, proof I survived the Kinney household. Made it a little easier. When I left the hell-hole called home sweet home, I was decorated like a four star general and vowed that I would never be shit on again. Looking back through a decidedly warped lens, I suppose in a bizarre way, Saint Joan and Father Jack did me a favor. Because in a world of fuck or be fucked, I chose the first option. Survival of the fittest and all that crap. I had to look after me. No one else would. And you know what? I was fine with it. I _am_ fine with it.

      Not caring that the guys were still waiting for me, because that’s what they always did, the latest trick finished his forgettable treatment of my cock. I left Babylon unfulfilled and empty, after leaving his mouth filled and full. Everything seemed pointless: my job, my friends, even my dick. I’d been feeling antsy and off my game for a while and not knowing the cause of my restlessness was fucking with my head. My omniscient blonde assistant started to notice the clipped sentences, shortened meetings and overall malaise but was too smart to say anything. She didn’t have to. Her undercurrent of concern flitted through me as if skin and bone were tissue paper. I wanted something to make me feel alive. Fucking ridiculous, right? And I'd be the first to admit it. But that’s how I felt. There had to be more in this stupid existence to make it all worthwhile.

      Little did I know the answer would be waiting for me in the glare of a street lamp and that his name would be Justin Taylor.

                                      _“Just once in a lifetime, a man knows a moment, one wonderful moment when fate takes his hand.”  
_

                                                                                                             # # #

**CH. 2**

**THIS MAGIC MOMENT**

_“Just one look and I knew. Just one look, that’s all it took.” _

Justin's POV:                                           

      They drove to Liberty Avenue in a companionable silence nurtured by numerous late night phone calls and midnight confessions. Yet, Justin could feel the underlying unease in Daphne’s furtive glances whenever they stopped for a light. He frowned at her subliminal thoughts. He didn’t need them. They interfered with his internal monologue, his frantic reassurances that what he was doing was right—the time, the place, the decision. When she pulled the car over to the corner, his heart thumped against his rib cage like a bass drum. Over its percussive pounding, he barely heard her ask if he was sure, if he knew what he was doing. Forcing himself to address her apprehension, he reluctantly turned away from the random faces and bodies to look her in the eye. He mumbled an inane comment of appeasement, not wanting to admit that he wasn’t sure, that he was fucking petrified of what he was about to do.

      He watched her drive away, fighting the temptation to call her cell and beg her to return. Alone and uncertain, he took a hesitant step off the curb, oblivious to the splash of water in his sneaker making each footfall squick and squish. After lighting a cigarette, he started walking but slowed his pace to a crawl when he realized he didn’t have a clue where to go. He seriously debated the wisdom of his grand plan when a brief exchange with a slightly suspect character dislodged an icicle of fear in his spine and sent it careening to the base. The conversation left him so frazzled that the man’s derisive, “Go home to mommy,” didn’t seem like such a bad idea. He shuddered as a chill raced through him, wondering what the hell he was doing. All he wanted was to have sex—for the very first time—and he couldn’t even do that. He struck a bargain with himself. _I’ll go one more block. One more, then I’m leaving._ Reaching the end of his self-imposed deal breaker faster than he would have preferred, he slumped against a lamp post with a dizzying array of emotions. Dejected by his lack of success, he gave a forlorn sigh and took one last look at what might have been.

       Like a cliched scene from a bad movie, he stood rooted in place, transfixed by a face he would later call “the face of God.” He was half afraid to look at him, worried that he’d be caught staring, slackjawed. The sensible part of his brain screamed at him to run but it was an exercise in futility, no match for the shouted whispers of primitive instinct. Body and soul already held captive, his heart and mind intertwined to form a united irrational front against common sense. Definitely unrealistic and embarrassingly childish, he knew this impossibly handsome man would be the one.

_                                                                     “I’ve just seen a face. I can’t forget the time or place where we just met.”  _

       For a cosmic moment, time held its breath until, either by divine providence or his own silent wish, the stranger sauntered toward him. Too afraid the slightest action could end the encounter even before it began, he didn’t dare move, not to wipe the beads of sweat at his hairline or to dry his clammy palms on his jeans. _Decision time, Justin!_ He moistened his parched throat with a painful swallow and inhaled a much needed steadying gulp of air. Summoning every ounce of resolve, he countered with what he hoped was a confident look of his own and prayed.

  _"Fortune favors the bold."_

                                                                                                             # # #

 

       **CH. 3**

**STRANGERS IN THE NIGHT**

_“And then it happened. It took me by surprise. I knew that you felt it, too, by the look in your eyes.”_

With the caustic comments of the three musketeers droning in his ear, Brian almost missed it, almost missed him. A casual twist of his body to throw his jacket in the jeep, a slight pivot of his head, a last minute glance. That’s all it took. Leaning dejectedly against the street lamp, the obviously innocent blond appeared out of nowhere. Brian took in the whole package: tantalizing mouth, firmly muscled chest, gently angled hips. And, he smirked, enough teenage clothing indifference to persuade the design gods to rise from their graves in protest.

                                                     _“Well, he was just seventeen and the way he looked was way beyond compare.”_

       A hunter’s rush of excitement coiled in his stomach at the lascivious images he envisioned. Not in the habit of deflowering little boys standing on street corners, he couldn’t help but salivate at the fun he could have. He snickered. What better way to show the kid the ins and outs of being gay than with a hands on private lesson from the master himself? But he had to admit there was something else, something more intriguing than the above physical attributes or the *Aimee Yoshioka gardenia-colored skin and electric blue eyes. It was visceral and inexplicable, making him yearn to bury his nose in the ivory neck and breathe him in, to run his tongue along every inch of the toned body and savor the taste, to sink his cock in the virgin hole and hear him cry out with pleasure as he came.

       Propelled by an unexplainable force, he strode toward the wide-eyed twink with the cocksure attitude of a predator stalking his prey. A flicker of uncertainty crossed the pale face but was immediately replaced by gritty determination. _Way to go, kid!_ Because his mind was a step behind his dick, he hadn’t given serious consideration to the perfectly shaped ass. Now that he had, a vivid image of spreading the succulent flesh in his palms and feasting on the offering imprinted itself on his groin. He was a man on a mission.

                         _“If you are out walking at this hour and in this place, you must want something, and that something I’m sure I may help you with.”_

 *Aimee Yoshioka gardenia means first love.

                                                                                                            # # #

 

        **CH. 4**

                                                                                       **IT ONLY TAKES A MOMENT**

_Two strangers meet in a place they shouldn't, at this dangerous time of night.”_

 Justin’s POV:

      I’m terrified, ready to run at a moment’s notice. What the fuck am I doing? I’m also more fucking aroused than I ever thought possible. What the hell does that say about my priorities? He’s walking toward me on the longest legs I’ve ever seen, looking like a graceful panther ready to strike—intense and animalistic—and frighteningly sexy. My breathing speeds up, definitely faster than the average 12 breaths per minute for an adult male. Although, come to think of it, my rate is always higher than normal due to my allergies. Now it’s probably off the chart.

      He looks so smug and self-assured. His eyes are targeted on me like two laser beams. I can’t make out if they’re green, brown, or gold. When my sex-addled brain realizes they’re hazel, a warm fuzzy feeling comes over me. Despite my overwhelming panic, I feel safe. But I don’t know why. Not surprising, really. If someone asked me my name, I wouldn’t know that either. He’s standing in front of me! My stomach feels like a cement mixer. God, please don’t let me throw up or faint. A surge of heat creeps up my face like a bad sunburn, and I mentally curse the inheritance gods for my fair skin. Even worse, no matter how hard I try, I can’t stop my dick from twitching against my jeans. I know he notices. I’m sure of it.

     “How’s it going? Had a busy night?”

      He’s too close, close enough to touch. But I don’t back up. I have to make him see I’m not easily intimidated. I can do this! Trying to convey an air of worldly nonchalance, I give a slight shrug, hoping my voice doesn’t squeak when I open my mouth. “Just checking out the bars. You know, BoyToy, Meathook....”

     “Meathook? Really? So you're into leather?” He gives a knowing smirk but I don’t feel mocked or belittled because his mouth almost turns into a grin, softening the angles of his face.

      Not wanting him to think I’m an inexperienced high school kid, I muster up all my courage to meet his gaze without flinching. “Sure.” I breathe a sigh of relief when I don’t choke on my words.

      I feel like a newly discovered ancient artifact, as if he’s trying to figure me out, deciding what to do. In the presence of such raw sex appeal, every organ, every muscle in my body pulses with nervous need, but my cock quickly eliminates the nervous part. The wait is killing me. He had better hurry up or I’ll lose whatever self-control I have and beg him to fuck me.

      I guess he decided. His oh-so-deliciously-wet tongue slips between his lips and he asks almost hesitantly, “Where are you headed?”

      Any thought of running away disappears under the weight of eyes so pinpointed on mine that no amount of willpower, if I had any, could make me leave. Fuck! Is this really going to happen? Heart pounding in my ears, I swallow and look straight at him. “No place special.”

     “I can change that.”                                                                    

                                                                                                            # # #

**CH. 5**

           **ONE SLIP AND DOWN THE HOLE YOU GO**

_“Take time to deliberate but when the time for action has arrived, stop thinking and go in.”_

 Justin’s POV:

     “Coming in? Shut the door.”

      I feel like Alice in Wonderland tumbling down the rabbit hole. Closing that door will change my life forever. Yeah, I know. It’s just a piece of metal, nothing menacing about it. Melodramatic? I suppose. But I’m an artist. I thrive on hyperbole.

      My body shows signs not only of impending danger—tingles in my scalp, goosebumps on my skin, chills down my spine—but also of lust-filled adrenalin. I don’t think I can hold it all in. A hysterical bubble forms in my throat at a bizarre image of my dick exploding like a grenade. I try to stifle it, but picturing white liquid splattered on every surface in this expensive loft like a Jackson Pollack painting forces out a noise somewhere between a snort and a snicker. Fuck! I hope he didn’t hear it.

      Squeezing my eyes, I take a deep breath and shut the door to face an unknown future, changing the course of destiny forever.

 Brian’s POV:

    “This is a really nice place. I like your kitchen.”

     He looks as if he’s going to bolt any minute. But now that he’s here, I have to make sure he stays. Because thanks to this impromptu meeting, I’m horny as hell. So I pull out the big guns. Keeping him occupied with inane small talk about drugs and cereal, I shuck my clothes and stretch out my arms, challenging him. “So are you coming or going? Or coming and then going? Or coming and staying?”

_Ok, kid. Time to see what you’re made of._

      It’s up to him now. I know he’s scared, but if he wants this, he has to take the first step. He can’t stop staring. His eyes flick up and down my naked body but always return to my cock. Big surprise. I’m probably the first man he’s seen in the flesh. I see him warring with himself but after a brief hesitation, he throws off his jacket and walks toward his manhood.

                                                                                                             # # #

 

                                                     **CH. 6**

                                                    **A SERIES OF FIRSTS**

_“The first time ever I kissed your mouth, I felt the earth move in my hands, like the trembling heart of a captive bird that was then at my command.”_  

      Perhaps he had become too jaded, too accustomed to the act. Whatever the reason, the kid was like a fresh breeze blowing through the cesspool of his life. The depth of anticipation startled Brian, piercing him with a tidal wave of voracious hunger.

      Keenly aware how to pleasure, he leaned close enough for his lips to brush the curve of Justin’s cheek and smiled a knowing smile when he heard him inhale a shaky breath. Encouraged but not surprised at the response, he couldn’t stop his eager tongue from darting out. At the involuntary shudder, he swooped in for the kill.

      An electric current surged through Justin’s veins, scorching his skin. The kiss was hot and hungry, with tongues tangling and bodies rubbing. Intoxicated by the scent of cologne and aftershave, liquor and cigarettes, he could barely hold himself together. Knowing where they were headed, everything was moving too slow, yet too fast.

      As their push and pull became more aggressive, Brian pulled back, desperate for air. But a deep-throated moan from his conquest-to-be was too potent to ignore, relegating the need to breathe to the back of his priorities. With a handful of blond hair in one hand, he invaded his mouth again, tasting and exploring, never giving him a chance to surface from his fog of arousal. Desperate to touch the hard flesh poking at his thigh, his other hand pried open Justin’s jeans and slid inside. Pleasantly surprised at the size, he wrapped his fingers around the impressive thickness, appreciating the way it jerked as he stroked up and down.

      Justin gasped in shock at the contact, his knees almost buckling beneath him. He broke their kiss and stared wide-eyed, the touch of a hand on his cock other than his own too much to process. The overwhelming sensation flung open the floodgates of pent up arousal and he responded to Brian’s sexual seduction like a moth to a flame. Grinding his body against him, he couldn’t get close enough, one hand gripping the back of his neck, the other scrabbling blindly over his bare back.

      With his flushed cheeks, swollen lips, and mussed hair, he was the image of a debauched angel. And Brian wanted nothing more than to complete the painting.

Justin’s POV:

      I’m lying totally naked on my stomach in a bed that’s not mine, but I’m not scared. Why? Because I don’t have a bone in my body. Because this drop dead gorgeous stranger just finished not only licking my ass, but also shoving his tongue in it. I never knew a tongue could get in that far! People really do that? I never would have imagined even wanting to do it until now. It feels fucking amazing!

     “Now you know what rimming is.” His words wash over me like liquid velvet as he nudges me onto my back. He pinches my nipples, then rubs them with his palm. Pinching and rubbing, pinching and rubbing. Fuck! They're so hard and sensitive, I don't know if they hurt or feel good.

      After my shaky hands slip the condom on him—there’s no way that’s going to fit inside me—he flicks open the lube and squirts some on my ass. Christ, it’s cold. But he assures me that it’ll heat up. And it does. The bed dips as he changes position, getting ready to take me. I’m nervous and excited, wondering how it’s going to feel, wondering how _I’m_ going to feel.

      He presses his cockhead against my hole and pushes in just a little. God, I feel as if I’m being split in two and suck in a breath as my flesh stretches. What the fuck? This is supposed to feel good!

     “It hurts!” Scrunching my eyes against the pain, the words tumble out of my mouth before I can stop them. I sound like a whiny kid, but I can’t help it. It fucking hurts! I guess he wasn’t expecting that reaction because he suddenly stops. Oh, God! What did I do wrong? Shit! He’s probably regretting this, regretting _me_ , wondering why he bothered, why he—

     “Hey, where’d you go?” He’s gentle, almost soothing. “You ok?”

      Not trusting myself to speak, I bite my lip and nod. Opening my eyes, I know he can see the mist that had worked its way to the surface. But he doesn’t seem annoyed or impatient. He looks concerned. Bracing himself on one arm, he reaches out with the other and his hand brushes strands of damp hair off my face.

     “Let me know when you’re ready.”

      Is that why he stopped? To give me time to adjust? I guess it makes sense that he’d know what to do. He’s probably done this more times than I can count, considering he was fourteen when he first had sex. It makes me feel better to think he’s holding back because he doesn’t want to hurt me. Whatever it is, it’s working. Even my ass doesn’t hurt as much, just twinges a bit. But I still have to ask. “Does it always hurt?”

    “Sometimes,” he murmurs. “But that’s a part of it.”

      Covered with a sheen of perspiration, the muscles in his arms quiver with the strain of keeping still. Beads of sweat trickle from his temples down his cheeks and drip from his brows to the tip of his nose before landing on my bare chest like liquid lava. Despite my overheated body, I shiver as the droplets roll off my side onto the sheet. Holding my breath, I shift a little, letting him know I’m ready.

     “Relax,” he orders and pushes in a little more.

      I can’t help but squeeze my eyes shut again, but quickly open them when I hear his voice.

     “I want you to always remember this. So that no matter who you’re ever with—”

      He gives one last thrust. Oh, God! He’s all the way in!

     “I’ll always be there.”

      Suspended above me, he finally starts to move. In and out, in and out. Faster, then slower. I feel the fire building inside. So fucking good! His thumb brushes across my slit and fuck! I’m... _I’m coming!_

                                                                                                            # # #

                   

                                                                                                            **CH. 7**         

    **NOW WHAT?**

_                  “I cannot be awake, for nothing looks to me as it did before. Or else I am awake for the first time, and all before has been a mean sleep.”  _

      As daylight filtered through the curtains, a self-satisfied grin lit up Justin’s face like the morning sun. He finally did it. He had sex—with a total stranger. And the world hadn’t come to end. It wasn’t like him to be reckless, without a thought for his safety. If he hadn’t been so horny and desperate, he never would have done it. Christ, the guy could have been, could _be_ a psycho. Biting his lip, he threw a furtive glance at the sleeping man and shook his head. No way. Not even remotely possible.

      He couldn’t stop replaying every nuance, every word. And no matter how many times he told himself it was just sex, it was so much more than his subconscious ever could have imagined. Like the man himself, Brian’s touch had been confident and strong, eliciting an implicit trust that made him feel safe, never letting him think he was anything less than desired or important.

      Their first round seemed to go on forever, with every thrust leading to a new burst of fiery arousal. Naked flesh and a talented cock made his head spin with desire and his skin blister with heat. Exhausted and sated, he succumbed to post orgasmic haze and dozed, only to be roused a short while later when Brian stirred, pressing his growing erection against his ass. The deliberately unhurried fuck sent him soaring yet again, his fingers dancing up and down the muscular back in frenzied desperation for release. Before sleep threw its last blanket over them, their bodies shifted once more. Hands and mouths discovered new areas to explore and enjoy, further kindling the heat to push them over the edge one more time.

      He wished the moment would never end, wanting Brian in his life for more than just one night. His insecurity returned when he realized that there would have to be words. And then an uneasy tremor rippled through him when he also realized that he would have to leave.

_                                       “Just call me angel of the morning. Just touch my cheek before I leave. Then slowly walk away from me.”  _

Brian’s POV:

      I feel like shit, maybe worse than shit, thanks to my alcohol, drug and sex haze from hours before. Barely able to open my eyes wider than slits, I know it’s almost morning even though the alarm hasn’t gone off. One fucking ray of sun is peeking through the curtains, shining directly on my face. I really have to get black-out liners. Not bothering to look at the clock, I close my eyes, drape an arm over my face and try to go back to sleep. But it’s not easy. Looking at him from the corner of a bleary eye, I see he’s still sleeping—peacefully, if the regular up and down rhythm of his chest is any indication and also contentedly, might I add, judging by the slight smile on his face. I should have sent him home, not let him stay the night. Yeah, I know he told his parents he was at a friend’s house. But now what do I do?

      I hate morning afters with a passion. They’re awkward and uncomfortable. That’s why I don’t do them, preferring to “fuck and run” instead. And I have a feeling this morning after will be one for the books. Because the night before certainly was, filled with heat and lust. I have to give him credit. He had balls. Very nice ones, actually. He knew what he wanted and I knew what I needed. Plain and simple. I never met an ass I didn’t like. They all serve the same purpose, an end to a means. But this kid, whatever his name is, should bronze his. I might never recover from having those legs wrapped around me and that ass clenching my cock. We had a couple of anxious moments but he pushed through his fear and the pain admirably. With that mouth and ass, he’s a natural born queer.

      It’s too early to be wondering about this shit. I’ll deal with it when the fucking alarm rings. But right now my eyes are starting to close. I think I can finally sleep.

                                                                                                            # # #

 

                                                     **CH. 8**

  **THAT’S ALL IT WAS?**

      Justin took the stairs two at a time, storming out of the loft as if he’d been punched in the stomach. He leaned against a street sign to catch his breath but hearing the front door bang open, he started toward his car, blinking away unwelcome tears. The last thing he wanted was for Brian to think he was a crying faggot.

      Mouth set in a grim line, a seething Brian strode out of the loft, the slap of his bare feet against the pavement shattering the late night silence. Why was he wasting precious time when he had Mr. Goodfuck waiting? Despite the kid’s perfectly shaped ass and talented mouth, he was getting annoying. There was nothing between them other than an admittedly mind-blowing night of fucking and sucking. And his thanks for showing him what it meant to be queer was teenage angst? He didn’t think so. Yet, regardless how analytical and rational his intellect could be at times, something felt odd. Not one thing in particular, just an undefined jumbled mess of everything together. He couldn’t describe it, but the feeling was there.

_                                                              “I can’t explain it, don’t understand it. I ain’t never felt like this before.” _

     “Don’t you dare walk away from me! I left a stranger in the loft to talk to you.”

      At the sound of the familiar voice, Justin paused mid-step, before conflicting emotions propelled him to pick up his pace. He flung over his shoulder unsteadily, “But you’ll fuck him there, right?” 

      Brian’s long legs quickly shrank the distance between them. He reached the car even before the door was fully open and slammed it shut angrily. Just a piece of ass, he told himself. Forget him and move on. With an intentionally intimidating step, he invaded Justin’s personal space. It was time for a harsh dose of Kinney reality before he could romanticize their one night stand into something meaningful. He didn’t violate his particular code of ethics, such as it was, for anyone. If he had to tuck in a little bit of himself along the way, so be it.

     “Get this through your head. I’m saying it only once. We’re done! It was just a fuck! I don’t know how much clearer I can be.”

      Justin’s heart thumped at the closeness. He breathed in a whoosh of air, then wished he hadn’t because it filled him with the scent of cologne and after-shave, with the memory of sex and sweat. “That’s all it was to you? But, but what you said, what you....” He couldn’t accept that Brian’s whispered words during sex were the words of someone who didn’t care, who regarded him as just a fuck. Not at all. They meant something, damnit!

     “What the fuck did you expect? That we would become ‘boyfriends’ and live happily ever after? Hate to break it to you, but that's not life. That’s a fucking fairy tale.” Brian pinched the bridge of his nose. The glistening eyes and trembling lips were proving to be problematic. “Look, I don’t believe in love. I believe in fucking. It’s honest. It’s efficient. You get in and out with a maximum of pleasure and a minimum of bullshit.”

     “You’re wrong!” Justin shook his head in denial. “You’re so totally wrong. It wasn’t just a fuck!”

_“I’m in love for the first time. Don’t you know it’s gonna last. It’s a love that lasts forever. It’s a love that has no past.”_   

     “Justin!” He had to end this. He snapped, “I’ve had you. You wanted to be fucked and I was more than happy to oblige. You knew what you were getting when you went with me. At least you should have. Besides....” He gave a quick shake of his head to purge the potentially disastrous thoughts circling like vultures. But like all clever predators, they possessed the one trait necessary for success, patience. Biding their time, they waited for the opportune moment of vulnerability, then pounced.

      With a finely honed perception that belied his years, Justin noticed the ambush. When a wistful shadow flickered across the aristocratic face, the jagged edges of his nerves softened a bit. Because in order to accept Brian's words, he had to believe nothing would ever happen between them. But now, he knew anything could. “You’re wrong, Brian,” he repeated. “No matter how hard you try to convince me or yourself, it wasn’t just a fuck. That’s why you can’t admit it.”

      Feeling wetness on his cheeks, he jumped into the car, put it in gear, and sped away, leaving Brian standing in the deserted street, his tall frame illuminated by the street light. If he had glanced in his rearview mirror, he would have seen a tightlipped man with sorrowful hazel eyes and slightly slumped shoulders looking as if he had just lost a fight. In the distance, the wail of a police siren punctuated the stillness, its strident blare a symbolic foreshadowing of what was to become the new life of Brian Kinney, a life over which he would have no control from this day until forever.

_                       “Do you know where you’re going to? Do you like the things that life is showing you? Where are you going to? Do you know?”   _

 

                                                                                                                 THE END


End file.
